


Path to Liberation

by SaltNPeppa



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, C137cest, Character Death, Crimes & Criminals, Explicit Language, M/M, Manipulation, Mild Gore, Murder, Pocket Morty, Underage - Freeform, pocket mortys - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24729220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltNPeppa/pseuds/SaltNPeppa
Summary: When Rickimus unknowing purchases Evil Morty at the Citadel’s annual Morty “Pet” Party, Morty attempts to take advantage of Rickimus’ position as a member of the counsel of Ricks. Things go downhill when Morty is convicted for murder.AKA: One dimension’s version of Evil Morty’s backstory
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith, Rickimus Maximums/Evil Morty
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

“Is-Is this even  _legal_?” Rickimus asked, eyebrow raised while eyeing the Rick who stood beside a shady looking backdoor, dressed in a suit and black sunglasses. 

“Don’t like? Don’t — then don’t buy.” Bodyguard Rick replied shortly, crossing his arms. 

With a roll of his eyes, Rickimus shifted on his feet, a short moment of quietness passing over the two. While he was far  above  purchasing a Morty for himself, he was curious at the underground event taking place tonight. As a member of the council, he needed to know the ins and outs of the Citadel. 

“Let me in.” He decided.

Once granted entrance, he was greeted by the sight of several Ricks standing around chatting with one another. Each Rick held a delicate glass of white champagne which looked too expensive for even Rickimum’s tastes. The event looked more like a party than a corrupt pet ring. Though the outside of the event looks dank and unsightly, the inside was covered in lush, red carpets and the walls were covered in gold accents. Each corner was decorated with two floral plants and a Greek-inspired statue. 

Rickimus’ mouth nearly remained agape untila server Rick whirled by with a tray, handing him a glass of champagne. He took it, an overwhelmed expression on his face as he pushed himself past several crowds or Ricks discussing their pet Mortys or stroking their egos. 

Rickimus placed the untouched glass of champagne on a nearby grand piano as he moved further from the center of the party, slowly inching toward the see-through cages of several different Mortys. Some looked like a cross between various aliens hybrids, others looked like varying degrees of interesting mutations. The Morty that caught his eye, however, was the most plain-looking Morty of them all. 

He paused at this Morty’s cage, his eyes crawling over the lanky boy’s body. The Morty paid the man no mind, his gaze empty as he drew circles on the white marble flooring of his cage. The only curiosity found on the Morty was the eyepatch covering his left eye. 

Realistically, Rickimus didn’t understand why he approached the clearly unbothered boy, but he felt a connection with him he couldn’t quite place; a kind of gravitational pull. Pushing himself through the blue plasma barrier, Rickimus entered the cage, standing and watching the boy. When the Morty paused to look up at the man in question, he eyed the man with a daring look, one that wasn’t afraid or sheepish. The sight admittedly excited Rickimus.

“Rickimus.” The man announced himself, crouching down beside the sitting boy. 

The Morty raised a brow, shifting onto his knees. “And what?” He asked, his eyes gazing into the man’s own relentless stare. “Do you want me to bow down? Perhaps roll over like a dog?” 

“Why-why would I want you to do that?”

“Because that’s what  all  Ricks want. A want — a _need_ — to control Mortys.” The Morty retorted hollowly, giving his yellow shirt a fidgeting tug. 

Rickimus watched the fidgeting Morty for a moment longer before he reached forward and brushed a gloved hand across his cheek. The touch seemed to repulse the boy as he jerked backward, eyes wide with an offended look. 

“I want you.” Rickimus announced, his own directness and desire surprising even himself. 

“Who are you?” The Morty questioned suddenly, his expression betraying his excitement and eagerness. 

“I-I’ve already told you —“ Rickimus started, only for the Morty to reach forward and boldly cover his lips with a demanding finger.

“Your position,” the Morty clarified, emphasizing his question with a tug at the man’s bizarre clothing. “What is it?”

“Ah,” Rickimus cleared his throat, tucking some strands of his hair behind an ear. “I’m a member of-of the Citadel council.” He clarified. 

“Mm.” Morty hummed in approval, a smirk dancing across his face. “That works, then. When am I able to come home with you?” 

“Tonight.” 

—

Despite Rickimus being a high-ranking member of the council of Ricks, his Citadel apartment left much to be desired. As soon as the two walked through the door, Morty’s expression twisted in a scowl.

“It’s filthy.” He commented flatly, walking ahead to explore the dim apartment’s contents. He then traveled to the small kitchen, pushing open a closed curtain. The moon’s light highlighted Morty’s emotionless features. When he turned to glance at Rickimus, the man seemed to be in a trace, his eyes taking in the sight of the boy. 

Evil Morty refused to admit the entrancement directed toward him didn’t make his stomach erupt in butterflies. He ignored the look to the best of his abilities.

“Where will I be sleeping tonight?”

Rickimus snapped out of his temporary trace, clearing his throat and closing the door behind him as he finally fully entered his apartment. “M-My room, probably. I’ll-I’ll take the couch.”

Morty glanced down the short hallway, seeing a room at the end of it. It was just was messy as the living room.

“Can we-we talk before you head to bed, though?” Rickimus demanded as he sat himself on the couch. The furniture creaked under the man’s weight. After he received no immediate reply, Rickimus tilted his head, glancing back at the boy who remained standing, a slightly panicked expression on his face.

“Why?”

“I purchased you, but you are not-not my property,” Rickimus responded, tying his hair into a low ponytail as he removed his shoes. “W-We must set boundaries, it’s only natural. You are more than welcome to-to stay with me. The only thing I ask is for you to repay me by o-occassionally cleaning up.”

Morty forced himself not to raise an annoyed brow, instead, giving a short nod. “Fine. If we’re done here, I’m retiring for the night.”

Refusing to wait for a confirmation, Morty left the man, traveling down the short hallway and into the room. The familiar smell of Rick enveloped him. The scent causing him to grimace. Morty knew he would have a difficult time sleeping tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: Rick-ythoughts   
> Leave me a question there


	2. Disadvantage

Morty allowed himself to fall into a comfortable routine. He allowed himself to play the part of a mindless grandson to Rickimus, assuring it was all for the grand scheme of things. He was granted entrance deeper into the counsel until he was eventually familiar enough to stand beside lawyer Morty without anyone’s suspicion. He was allowed to watch several court proceedings take place. 

It was on one faithful afternoon that Morty followed Rickimus into his work, managing to slip out the boring proceeding in which a Rick had “lost” his third Morty. In reality, this Rick had abandoned all three of his Mortys in different dimensions for a reason yet to be known. 

Much to his surprise, the Citadel’s security that day had been extremely tight. More so than usual. This irked Morty to no end as several guard Ricks eyed him like a hawk to its prey, likely due to the fact he was not accompanied with a Rick. He felt as if he was being cornered into a single direction by surrounding Guard Ricks, all of which approached him from several different angles at a gradual rate. When one of the guards snagged his wrist, Morty hissed in surprise.

“Where’s-where’s your Rick?” 

Morty purposely sagged his shoulders, attempting to seem more submissive and sheepish. “Ah, jeez, I just had to take a quick leak! He’s right around the corner!”

The guard scoffed, shoving Morty toward the direction of one of the nearby public bathrooms, irritated. “Hurry it up and get-get back to your Rick.”

Morty obediently ducked into one of the restrooms labeled “Morty”, his posture straightening as a soon as he was out of sight. He paused to gaze at his appearance under the florescent lights, his uncovered eye sharp and knowing, so unlike the typical Morty. The blinking light overhead did little to hide his diabolical and angry expression, shadows painting his face in small intervals between each click, highlighting what the naked eye couldn’t seek out.

Slipping his eyepatch off momentarily and letting the wires hang around his eye, the boy gave his face a small splash of water to stop his wandering thoughts before pumping soap into his palms, scrubbing his hands and wrists clean of the touch of the Rick from earlier. The sound of another Morty emerging from the stall behind him causing him to raise his eyes slowly, watching the dumb Morty through the mirror. Unfortunately, the boy began washing his hands in the sink right beside Evil Morty.

Evil Morty kept his eyes down, scrubbing more vigorously at his palms, allowing the soap to foam and bubble before washing it away with a cold stream of water. He could feel the other boy’s eyes watching the wires around his eye dangle as he wiped his hands dry.

“I’m sorry you won’t be returning to your Rick,” Evil Morty stated flatly, as if he had performed the exact words several times. He turned to look at the boy. “He won’t miss you anyhow.” 

—

The sounds of gargling flooded Morty’s ears as he choked the witness in one of the stalls, continuing his tight hold even when the dumb Morty was unmoving. It was important he completed the job. When his body was found, no one would dare suspect a Morty was guilty of such a Rick-level crime. He moved down with the now limp, unmoving body, setting it down on the toilet. Morty then unlocked the stall and stepped out, washing his hands once again as adrenaline dissipated from his body. Immediately after, he strapped on his eyepatch. 

“Morty?” A voice called out, the volume bouncing across the vacant bathroom. 

When Morty finally exited the vicinity, he made eye contact with a Rick standing outside the Morty restrooms. The Rick groaned impatiently. “Hey, you seen a Morty in there? He’s pretty standard — normal looking.”

“Afraid not,” Morty replied simply, walking past the Rick dismissively. “Not a soul in there but me.”

Technically, he wasn’t lying. The Rick’s gaze lingered on him a second too long as Morty left to rejoin the earlier proceeding he was part of. As soon as he entered, Rickimus huffed at him, snatching his wrist possessively.

“The fuck — where have you been? You missed the whole thing!” Rickimus stated, tapping his foot which was hidden under his long uniform robe.

Morty bit back the need to rip away his arm. “I needed to take a leak.”

“Gross,” Rickimus replied shortly, letting the boy go to wipe his hand on his robe, acting as if Morty was some dirty, pest-ridden dog. A part of Morty boiled in hidden anger. “Anyway, we’re done for-for the day. Let’s head home.”

Morty only nodded in agreement, the two exiting the meeting room, walking past the insane amount of guard Ricks littered everywhere. The number seemed even higher than minutes before when Morty had gone to the bathroom. Some Ricks where running around in pairs, anger laced in their expressions. The disgusting smell of stale alcohol and sweat permeated the building. Morty refrained from plugging his nose.

“There’s that son of a bitch! Eyepatch w-wearing shit!” The Rick from earlier shouted, grabbing Morty from behind by his shoulder. Rickimus quirked a brow at the action, stopping in his tracks to look back at the man in question.

Several nearby guard Ricks paused in their tracks at the commotion. Morty didn’t appreciate the attention. 

“My Morty — you killed him!” He shouted the accusation loudly, screaming almost. He grabbed Morty by his yellow shirt, eyes wild. When Morty gave the man a uncharacteristically cold, calculated look, the Rick nearly let go. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Morty retorted calmly, his feet now nearly dangling in the air from the Rick’s grip. The tips of his shoes lightly scraped against the flooring from the position. Despite this disadvantage, Morty didn’t lose his composure staring back up at the Rick. He would not be bullied into submission.

One of the guards jumped in, a Morty this time. “T-t-that’s a bold claim. Please don’t start a fight! You know Mortys can’t — don’t have the ability to kill other Mortys!”

Rick’s eyes never left that of Evil Mortys, even as he relied, “That’s what-what I thought too until I saw my Morty’s lifeless body hanging against-against the toilet, bruises around his neck with finger indentations too small for  any Rick.”

“It could have been any Morty.” 

“You were the only one in there with him, you punk-ass bitch!” The Rick snarled, ignoring the guard Morty who was attempting to deescalate the situation. Rickimus stepped in this time, eyes staring into Morty’s single uncovered eye. He was seeking the truth, trying to read Morty. But Morty wouldn’t let him. He refused to make contact with Rickimus, choosing to stare into the angry Rick holding him by his shirt.

“It could have happened before I entered the picture.” Morty once again tried to answer.

“I  _watched_ my Morty enter the bathroom  _alive_. You were the only one in and out of there within that span of fu-fucking time!” The grieving Rick snapped his hands up, wrapping them around Morty’s slender neck and wringing it with every ounce of power he had. “See-see how you like it when I choke  you  to death!”

Morty wheezed when his oxygen was cut off suddenly, eye bulging in his socket as he gripped onto the Rick’s hands, trying to pry them off to no avail. It was then that two additional guards intervened, yanking the two parties away from one another, successfully allowing Morty to inhale a swallow of pure oxygen. The boy collapsed on his knees, rubbing his raw throat in short desperate pants.

The Morty guard gazed down at Evil Morty, sympathy and a dash of pity in his eyes. “Sometimes Ricks are — they kinda go overboard. But it’s best not to give them any reaction to fuel them.” The young guard reasoned silently.

“See, I don’t agree,” Morty replied, his voice hoarse even to his own ears. His eyes focused on the screaming and fighting Rick being held down by two guards against the floor.

“Now is the time for action.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: Rick-ythoughts 
> 
> The water was cold because Morty wanted his hands to be numb.
> 
> Leave a comment on this chapter!


	3. He Was the Same After All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains attempted rape and murder!

“Did you kill him?” Rickimus asked, his long hair tied in a low ponytail which draped over his right shoulder. He sat on the couch, leaning back in a relaxed, slouched position after snorting some mild alien drugs. His back faced Morty, who was washing some dishes.

Morty paused his hand, dish soap plopping below and slithering down the wet drain. His

expression soured as he replied.

“Do you believe I did?” 

“Believing is-is something people do when they don’t have an answer,” Rickimus stated, a belch escaping him before he continued. “So, do-do I believe you did it? Sure. Do I believe you didn’t? Also yeah.” 

Morty let a chuckle leave him as he turned the water off, taking extra time to wipe his hands dry with one of the nearby towels. He heard Rickimus shuffle behind him, his footsteps nearing.

“That doesn’t even make sense, Rick.”

“Not everything does, n-not everything has to.” Rick whispered suddenly behind the shell of Morty’s ear. The tone was off-putting. When he wrapped his arms around Morty, the boy jolted, booze so heavy in Rick’s breath, a sample of his drool alone could intoxicate someone.

Morty tensed, a hot flash of anger clouding his mind momentarily as his heart rate picked up. Rickimus hovered over him, his height enveloping the boy. The man’s hands touched and felt Morty’s chest, slipping upwards to caress a hand across his cheek. Morty was then abruptly turned around and pushed against the kitchen counter, his hips painfully slamming against the marble texture.

“What’re you — what’re you hiding?” Rickimus asked, voice slightly slurred and his eyes wild with excitement - and lust. The man slid his hand across Morty’s cold cheek, not missing the quiver that rode the boy’s body. The other hand skimmed the zipper of Morty’s jeans, pulling it down.

Before he could think, Morty reeled back his fist, and threw it forward, landing a hit right in the middle of Rickimus’ throat. The man wheezed, choking for air as he stumbled back in shock. The hit dazed him, but Morty knew he had a small window to act. Time seemed to move slower as Morty debated between killing Rickimus to eliminate immediate chase from police, or leaving and hiding under the radar for a couple days. 

He didn’t need another murder on his hands, he decided. 

Rickimus rebounded faster than Morty expected, catching the boy’s ankle and dragging him down to the ground. Morty slammed his face into the wooden flooring on his way down, his nose spouting blood wildly. Despite this, he kicked at Rickimus’ face until the drunk man grabbed his foot, tearing off his shoe. 

“Get-get off me!” Morty stuttered, gripping onto one of legs of the nearby wooden table and pulling himself toward it desperately. Rickimus responded by reaching further up, gripping onto his jeans and pulling them down to his ankles. Morty yelped, genuine fear and urgency running through him. Rickimus seemed to thrive at this, the raw emotions in the air primal and animalistic, similar to a predator hunting its prey.

“Stop fucking — don’t struggle, it’ll only get me  _harder_ !” Rickimus sang, flipping the boy over onto his back and pulling Morty toward himself until their hips met and Morty’s legs were on either side of Rick’s hips. 

Morty’s expression twisted in anguish frozen in the moment he refused to acknowledge. Rickimus bent down and licked at his mouth, slobbering grossly over the boy’s tightly sealed lips. A pitiful whimper escaped Morty’s throat, one he hardly recognized as himself when Rickimus snatched one his wrists and pressed a trembling hand onto his bulge. 

“Look at — see what you did-did to me babe?” Rickimus whispered, bucking disgustingly against Morty’s hand, his fingers digging into Morty’s mouth and pressing wetly against his tongue. “You’re gonna make me feel even better when I—“

He was promptly interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Both Morty and Rickimus stilled, Rick slipping his fingers out of Morty’s mouth and looking at the door intently in offense. 

“Help!” Morty shouted, pride be damned. “Help m—“ Rickimus clamped a hard hand over the boy’s mouth, scowling down at him in an unspoken threat. 

When there was another loud knock at the door, Rickimus remained quiet, one hand pressed against Morty’s mouth, the other placed beside the boy’s head. Morty screamed and thrashed underneath the drunk body, using his knee to smash against the other’s boner. Rickimus groaned loudly, his grip refusing to loosen.

“You little shit!” Rickimus hissed, backhanding the thrashing boy in retaliation, successfully dazing Morty for a couple seconds.

The annoying knocking continued, a voice behind the door yelling. “Alright you-you shits, open up! I know you’re in there! I’m giving you three seconds!”

Rickimus grinned down at the boy despite the inevitable conflict behind the door, his hand caressing Morty’s cheek where a pink and purple bruise began to form. 

“One!”

The man hooked a teasing finger around Morty’s eyepatch, his eyes never leaving that of Morty. 

“Two!”

Slowly, he undid the loose tie of the eyepatch, pulling it off. His brow rose as red and blue wires drooped against Morty’s cheek. Upon further investigation, the seemingly normal eyepatch had a transmitter in the inside of it.

“What the fuck?” Rickimus spoke audibly, confusion painted on his face.

“Fucking, three!” The door came down with a stern series of kicks, inviting both a Rick and a Morty dressed in police uniforms to burst in. A part of Evil Morty wanted to be killed, his pride in shambles from the scene. 

The cop Rick held a gun up, surprise and shock on his expression as he drank in the sight of what looked to be an attempted rape in progress. The uniformed Morty stepped in shortly after, his face contorted in a similar fashion. 

“Son of a bitch.” The Morty whispered, his gun springing up and shooting a hole in Rickimus’ head, straight through his forehead. Rickimus fell backward on the floor, chunks of brain and blood oozing lazily from the wound.

“Morty!” Cop Rick shouted in disapproval. Cop Morty only gave his partner a quick glance before approaching Evil Morty, who remained on the floor. 

“You’re under arrest.” He stated flatly, as if he hadn’t just shot and killed someone moments ago. 

“What for?” Evil Morty asked, eyes trained on the limp body of Rickimus. 

Cop Morty pulled the boy into a sitting position, clasping on a tight pair of cuffs. 

“The murder of Morty A-237.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: Rick-ythoughts
> 
> This chapter was darker than I anticipated holy shit-

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: SaltNPeppa


End file.
